Lightbringer Enchained
by Starsilver
Summary: Heaven lies. Or, more precisely, the Archangels lie. Which the brothers find out when the Cage opens. What happens when your world is flipped upside-down, and even your guide doesn't know the truth? This is how my twisted muse got a good!Lucifer into Lord of the Rings. I don't know! Warning. Contains much bashing of Michael and Rafael. Dark, with (so far) attempted fratricide.


**A/N:** **I really have no idea if this will be continued or not, but enjoy anyway! I don't own Supernatural or Lord of the Rings, they belong to people much richer than me. Feel free to ask any questions in reviews or send me a pm, I don't bite - unless you flame me, in which case I still don't bite. Glaurung does that.**

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He sinks into endless black and cold not as cold as his brother's eyes (_at least, not yet_). Why, Father? The circle of light glares above him until a flash of Grace, pure and bright, sealing up the shattered, yawning gap in the wall of the world. Gabriel. He needs to _protectdefendrescue _- and his wings flap once as he fights to return. But they are broken, muscles twisted and snapped, jagged holes ripped straight through, pure white Grace streaming out in crystalline spirals only to dissipate and vanish. Pain that burns and rips sends agony shooting through him, killing thought. He cannot move for a long time. When he finally opens his eyes again, everything is black. And he wonders how they came to this.

He thinks it started when Father left.

He can remember when they were all happy, and there was light, and a world flecked in blue, emerald green and marble white. He knows it wasn't like this once, wasn't bitterness and pain. Once, gold, amber, teal and crimson wings swirled together, and they played, skimming over waves and mountains, dancing through fire. They created things (_creatures wonderful and glorious, that lived and breathed and moved_) with each other. There was love and pure, sweet songs of adoration and harmony.

He misses the voices of his brothers.

Centuries or hours or days waver and pass, as he wandered through memories (_they are a much more pleasant place to be_) before pain ripped him aware. The Grace bleeding from his wings had slowed, and everything around him was nothing, his very essence being leeched by the void around him. Cold gnawed at his wings, seeping slowly, ever-so-slowly, into his bones. Suddenly, he wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

He falls forever.

The first world he passes by he claws at with fingers that aren't really there, attempting to escape the ever-present ice creeping up his veins. He tries to get into the second, and the third, and the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, seventh, eighth ninth tenth eleventhtwelvethirteensixteentwentymoremoremore.

Eventually he stops trying.

He is weak now, so very drained (not cold. just tired). Maybe he would like the numbness if he could feel anything at all. The cold is long gone, replaced by a lethargy that wraps around him like the sun's fore had once done. At least he thinks so. Fire and heat seem so strange here. How long has he been falling?

Something flickers.

It is tiny, just the merest hint of something light, something warm, on the edge of his senses. Why should he care though? Far easier just to sleep forever... An image of golden eyes and amber wings and the sound of a child giggling flash across his closed eyes (_are they closed? It doesn't matter, he can't see anything either way_). Slowly, a name rises to the surface of his mind. Gabriel. A wing twitches. Even that is enough to make him ache, a slow burn as he can almost feel his pinions again. Another wing twitches, and some of the fog vanishes under pain. And again. He can finally think now, agony blooming sharp and bright.

He needs to survive.

With the last dregs of power he reaches out and latches onto the light, his entire body thrumming with painpainpain. Hardened Grace along his wings splits and cracks, new lifeblood trailing out into the void. It doesn't matter. He pulls, dragging himself towards the world that made a door into a darkness emptier than space. It is locked shut, bolted tight with power that was never meant to keep him out, but rather something else. He uses the feel of power to tear a crack in the gateway (something whispers that that was a bad idea. he can't think of why) just a tiny, jagged tear, barely enough to slip through. He is beyond drained now, past critical. And then he's falling, through light and warmth and feeling. The shock quickly bleeds into pain, and pressure builds behind his eyes.

Lucifer passes out before he hits the ground.


End file.
